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Finding
Fulfillment, and Other Dreams for Dreamers
chapter 2
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2.
My dearest Nina,
I love and love, yet am still filled with an emptiness, a loneliness,
a sadness, delivered to me like brilliant leaves of autumn, petals of
remembrance from above.
Your matter-of-factness frightens me. I'm not a take-for-granted person;
I don't believe in birthright. I feel that I'm defying the tarot. I'm
meant to be alone. Perhaps this is why I simply cannot trust that you
are mine. I simply cannot.
I wonder when you're with him. Do you think of me? A thin sheath of promises
shields me from harsh external fear that is misinterpreted as reality.
There's no way.
Every love song is a cry to you. Why don't you call? Are you that sure
in your emotion? I thrive on reassurance. You seem unwavering in your
devotion, but those are only words. Where is your evidence?
I am my own third person. I stage conversations about me. I hate silly
concepts- acceptance, acquaintance. I live in colors like love, passion,
pain, far too vivid to be washed away in the watercolors of ambiguity
or muted in the shadings of silence.
It's so magical inside my bubble. Penetrate and learn to love.
-Emma
My
Lover,
I feel, once again, stagnant-- stuck in a life that is one half of a cheap
trinket heart pendant. I yearn, and though I used to find solace in your
puppy dog devotion, it scares me that story book romances can't have cynical
princesses. I am not like you. I am not heaven-sent. I was born the kind
of angel that sits atop a very important building. An accessory cherub.
I fear floating on clouds, as intangibles are just that to me. Even as
I slide down rainbows, I know that they're just illusions. I want to believe,
need to believe.
I detest the superficiality that surrounds my interaction with creatures
of this world. Why am I more honest and more beautiful when I'm with you?
There are resplendent frustrations in the way my soul ascends. There is
peace within me only when I am unmolested by sarcasm and fear. There is
no room in me for insecurity.
When you were here, twilights were filling, and the grass seemed greener.
We were gorged on sunny kinetic air as we sipped crimson nighttimes. And
I was in love and everything was swelling and swell.
All
my eggs are in your basket. R.S.V.P.
-Emma
Ninita-
I found a sunrise for you, yesterday, and a whole mountainfull of color
splotched trees, today.
I found a Hallmark aisle full of I love you's, LUV you's, I WUV YOU's,
and I heart U this muches that somebody must have dropped.
Found a warm chocolate croissant and a song the same color as your eyes.
You left a hug on the couch between the cushions, next to one thin dime
(it's in a baggie by the door).
Found an old heartbeat of mine that you can use.
You should really come by, come see all the things I have for you.
-Emma
Mine(?),
Discouragement becomes an emotion more and more profound in me as the
days pass without word from you. I don't know what to do.
I don't want you to think I'm weird. Lovestruck perhaps, but not weird.
I just don't want you to fuck up your chance to receive an inconceivable
love without having to do anything besides acquiescing to it, yielding.
You don't even have to hold my hand.
I know it's hard to breathe when fantastical whimsies are palpable and
dreams become promises, but try. Or let me breathe for you. I'm not even
talking about bodies and sweat. I'm talking about filling spaces, indulging
vices. I want you to come into this dream that I've made for us with my
bare hands and barer hopes. Please don't burst it with piercing no's.
Don't rain on my parade, because my parade is celebrating you.
I mean, it wouldn't kill you to put a fuckin' pair of words on a page.
I'm not asking for a novel, just words. Simple, monosyllabic words.
They don't even have to be yours.
Perhaps it's your cynical indifference to my deference that I adore so.
-Emma
I loved you, Nina
with chocolate covered hair
eyes as big as bowling balls
that move like glossy coconuts
I loved you
with skin like liquid paper
mottled with peppermint freckles
melon lips
that turn rocket red when the sun goes down
I loved you
with crumbs on your lips
raspberry yogurt seeds between your teeth
and chicken lo mein on your breath
I loved you with your head tilted like an old rocking chair
and mocking eastern eyes
facing the sun
But most of all
I loved the breathless suction
of your painted lips on mine
when I told you so.
-Emma
Dear
Nina,
I thought I could live without you. I thought I could stop this insanity
by closing my legs and closing my eyes. But your not in my eyes. Somehow
you've become more of me than I asked you to be. And I'm scared. Because
I like it.
I thought I could let go and be free. That I would be free to hate you
for being abstract. Hate would bring colour back to your eyes, and a nasal,
resonant twinge back to your voice.
I thought it would be better without you. That your breath would stop
being my breath and your slightly bothered expression would cease to be
a concession of my womanhood.
Yet I simply must be with you.
I can't live, can't sleep
without you.
-Emmanuelle
Dear
Nina,
Regret, regret. Missing you- like a hand held too tightly. Maybe yesterdays
are not so bad after all. Angels must spread their wings, I know, but
why must they do it while I still love them? I feel empty and numb. Life
has lost its tenuous grasp on reality. What is real? What is love? How
do I release myself to the fate of angels? You seraphs have a way of making
life unbearable.
I must kiss heaven's outskirts before I die. What am I to be? Will love
ever truly become all that it is? I have no idea. All I know is that life
swells with emotion because of girls like me and the rain on this parade
is through no fault of my own.
Reality and absence don't make swell playmates. I say to hell with them,
let Hades give them the love they need. I, instead, shall feed on dreams,
a taste I have acquired over time. Come hail or high-water, I shall have
my feast before my flowers die.
-Emma
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